ooc: Laptop, £600. Broadband internet connection, £20. Abusing your mod powers: priceless.
Man, I gotta try and remember who everyone is!
IC:
Dulce was staring broodingly at the tabletop while his right hand vaguely stirred his half-empty bowl of watery stew (cigarettes had basically killed his sense of taste so he hadn't been too adverse to eating it).
His reverie was broken by the arrival of the weird guard and his loud music. Pushing his bowl aside, he climbed to his feet and skulked out of the cafeteria to the courtyard, lit himself an ugly cigarette and leant back against a wall, ignoring the mud already there.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Scream was leering at the back of a blue-skinned girl mud as she hurried across the cafeteria, holding her bowl, her arrogance holding her a special place in his mind. He liked making people crawl, and he looked forward to showing her how powerless she was.
The sudden increase of the volume of that idiot music made him turn sharply, a growl in his throat, "Shut that off!" He roared at the Musklum, whatever its name was, "This is a prison; not a holiday club! Turn that thing off or you'll be eating it!"
|